


Purple crown

by Fairy (laterie)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Crossdressing, Jackson is a weak pudding for him, M/M, Mark lost a bet, Markie is wearing TUTU, Markie is whipped cream for him, porn with mini plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25899985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laterie/pseuds/Fairy
Summary: Mark lost a bet and Jackson loves every bit of his husband's punishment.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	Purple crown

Jackson cried, loudly, and brokenly. Even Milo looked at him as if he has gone insane. But there was a reason for that. Just yesterday, Mark lost a bet, which his husband couldn't bear at all. He was so furious about losing. Like, Jackson tried to soothe Mark by rubbing his back and whispering sweet words of love, but Mark and games? Bets? Sports? He has triumph in the blood. 

So, why was Jackson whining, and how was it connected with Mark's lost bet? GOT7 spent a night together at a bar. On their way back home, BamBam proclaimed that he would climb onto the lamp and stay up for a whole minute. Mark _tsked_ at him. It was apparent that BamBam was drunk beyond the limits of climbing on anything. But that dumbass really did that. Mark lost the bet and had to… wear a purple skirt for a whole weekend. 

Jackson didn't understand how BamBam would gain anything from Mark wearing the tutu skirt at home. The only person who got endangered was Jackson himself. Mark's legs were slender, muscular, soft, and partly hidden behind the tutu's fluffy fabric. Jackson wanted to grab and squeeze and buried his face into the material. 

But Mark would not let him. So Jackson whined. 

Loudly and _a lot._

Louder than Milo's barking. 

"Can you cook today?" Jackson was sitting on the couch, his knees obediently pressed together, "I'm having a standing problem."

Mark stood in the living room, hands on his sides and legs displayed for admiration. Oh, that godly curve of Mark's hips and ass. How he struck a pose without even trying. Jackson stretched out his legs and looked at his feet, trying to focus on something else than his husband's sinful posture. Earlier, when they woke up, and Mark pushed the skirt over his perky butt, Jackson couldn't help himself but lift the tutu and say a proper good morning to his husband's private parts, which didn't do it without a whack on his head. It was painful, and Jackson even felt tears on the brim of his eyes. 

But Mark was sorry, said something about skirts coming with automatic slaps, so Jackson should not try to lift it again. 

"Fine," Mark said, putting his hands down, "but you're cleaning the bathroom."

"No problem," he chirped, watching as Mark retired into the kitchen, the skirt bouncing against his ass. 

Jackson whined again and dropped horizontally on the couch. "Why me?" he cried into the pillow while painfully squeezing his thighs together. 

The bathroom was not done yet, but Jackson was craving something cold. The thirst and not only in his throat made him restless and tired. He grabbed a canned soda from the fridge. Mark was cutting vegetables on the board, his fingers danced skillfully over the carrot. But what a shame that it was all Mark could do in the kitchen – cut. His cooking skills were uncooked. 

Heh. Jackson tittered.

"How's it going?" he sipped from his drink, "want some help?"

"Are you done with the bathroom?" Mark asked, rubbing his calf with the back of his foot. Jackson pursed his lips, watching the cross tattoo appear and disappear behind Mark's foot. 

Wordlessly, Jackson put the can on the table and sneaked behind Mark, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He kissed his neck and pressed his groin against Mark's ass shamelessly. There was no foreplay or light – innocent touches; Jackson broke through the seal of chastity and claimed Mark like a horny dog. 

Mark, however, was more pliant that Jackson had thought. He moaned lightly, tilting his head back and leaned it over Jackson's shoulder. Jackson twisted the knife away from Mark's hand to prevent any injury, and when Mark grounded his ass against his husband's obvious erection, Jackson stabbed the knife into the wooden cutting board. His deep groan resonated in Mark's lungs. 

"Fuck, _that's it…_ " Jackson pressed his hand against Mark's upper back and bent him over the kitchen counter. 

What happened next could never occur Mark. But since there was no lube around them, and Mark didn't feel like taking his husband's cock without proper preparation, he knew Jackson would do something crazy, maybe he would dry fuck him or finger him, but he would never consider Jackson getting on his knees. He pushed Mark's boxers down his ass and lifted the skirt only to command Mark to hold it up. 

"What are you do—" 

The underwear was tossed away by Jackson. The next thing was Jackson spreading his husband's ass cheeks and burying his face between them like it was a dessert. 

A loud moan echoed against the kitchen's walls. Mark's knees got weak, they felt like overcooked spaghetti. His chest ended up pressed between the mess of carrots and broccoli. The obscene sounds Jackson was making only fueled Mark's imagination, and suddenly, not even knowing how, Mark was gripping a whole carrot in his hand, moaning at the sensation of the wet and hot tongue on his entrance. 

"Fuck, Jacks, it's been so long…" 

Jackson hummed, sending pleasing vibes straight into Mark's balls, "how can I forgot how much you love when I eat you out."

"Then why don't you do it more often?" he cried.

"So, you would end up fed up?" he chuckled, licking around the rim, "so soft…" 

Mark whined again. At this point, he sounded like a broken record. He gripped at the skirt with one hand and at the carrot with his other. It was so nasty doing it in the kitchen, right on the food. But he had no time thinking about the mess because Jackson was pushing fingers inside of him. Mark punched the counter, gritting his teeth. 

"Fuck…"

"Now, that's a good idea…" he stood up, leaving Mark bare and with his ass up, but not for too long. His fingers were back inside, probing and massaging Mark's walls. 

It was evident that Jackson was thinking about going raw and Mark was about to turn around and say a big _no,_ when Jackson retired his fingers and gently patted his ass, "stay like this, I'll be back with a magic potion." 

Mark rolled his eye. 

"Fine," he sighed, propping himself on his elbows. He started to play with the carrot again, he even took a bite of it while waiting for his husband. 

And of course, it was another sneak attack. Jackson just appeared behind him with his fingers already lubed. Mark hissed at the cold against his skin. A breathy moan followed a long string of Mark's curses while Jackson fingered him carefully – minding his prostate. 

"Here we go," he smiled as he kissed Mark's shoulder, "you're so soft and pretty." 

Mark rested his forehead against the counter and took deep breaths when he felt the tip of his husband's cock pushing inside. To Mark's surprise, Jackson slid in easily, like it was a skill he had learned over the years. A smooth, careful move that Mark appreciated. Jackson was a mindful lover, only rarely happened that he lost control over himself. In that case, Mark had to either piss him off or do something triggering like kneeling on the bed with his ass up and waiting. These strange, porn concept nobody liked, but Mark was sometimes so out of his head that he needed to be weirded out. 

"You like that?" Jackson kissed his ear and tugged at the angel wing earring with his teeth before he started to move gently, "you know this is something I've never thought I needed." He confessed, sliding his hands under Mark's shirt. 

"Are you wearing a condom?" Mark asked, his lungs calling for more and more oxygen with each of Jackson's trust. 

"Yeah, why?" 

"It's so thick…" 

"Yeah, I…" Jackson rolled up Mark's shirt to kiss him between his shoulder blades, "…grabbed the first…" 

"It feels like a real rubber, the heck…" Mark moaned, "it warms up so fast…"

"What?" Jackson panicked, "I didn't…" 

"Take it off!" Mark wiggled uncomfortably, "I don't mind, just take it off."

"But—"

"Jackson, take it off!" 

The low grunt of Mark's deep voice resonated in Jackson. He looked at his husband again, "are you sure?"

A slow and sure nod came over Mark's shoulder. Man, what a _look._ Jackson wished he had a camera with himself so he could stare at this godly view every time he's overseas or in China, which wasn't a bad idea, not at all. 

"You're so _fucking_ pretty," he whined uncontrollably, "I can't take it anymore, Mark."

The older, as he was resting on his forearms, blinked at him in surprise. This one was new for him. There were so many moments when they couldn't take their hands off each other, even the desperate moments when they had to run away into dark corners and rooms full of bugs and spiders… but seeing Jackson like this, almost crying because of _how_ Mark looked – what he was wearing… _wow._

"Can I take a photo?" Jackson pulled out his cock slowly, "only seven."

Mark snorted and lowered his head between his shoulders, " _only seven."_

"Polaroids."

"No polaroids! You'll lose them!"

Jackson pouted, "marriage life sucks."

"What do you mean? Even if we were only engaged, I wouldn't allow you to take polaroids of my ass in the skirt." 

"Why _not_? Give me seven reasons!"

"Jackson!" 

The younger sighed, "fine…" he rolled down his condom and threw it on the kitchen link.

"I'll smack you!" Scandalized, Mark brushed it on the floor. 

Jackson wore his _stupid_ grin. He was aware of his doings and what effect it had on his husband. Acting like a brat would bring back to life the sleeping beast inside of Mark. However, no amount of _bad-boy_ behavior could change the fact that Mark won't let him take photos got into his brain. Jackson rubbed his husband's ass with his palms lovingly and kissed his neck. 

"I love you." He whispered as he pushed the tip of his cock inside, "god, it's been a while since we did it _raw, huh_?"

Mark moaned, automatically clenching around his husband's cock, "benefits of the marriage life," he bit his lips as he took another part into himself. 

He got a reply in the shape of Jackson thrusting powerfully into him. Mark's hips jerked forward, and he could feel as he bruised them against the edge of the kitchen counter. There was no use in trying to grab anything since it was only vegetables and the knife lying in front of him. So, he had nothing to brace himself against. 

"Fuck, _yes…_ " Jackson moaned, his hands roaming under Mark's oversized shirt, "you gotta admit you like taking my cock."

"Maybe," Mark teased him as he grabbed the carrot again, " _a little_ …" he gritted his teeth and pushed against the cock inside himself to ease the pressure on his inner walls. 

" _Maybe…_?" Jackson chuckled and slowed down, "It looks more like _a lot_."

"Just—" his head banged against the counter when the slow waves of Jackson's hips started grinding against him. Mark could feel Jackson's balls pressing against his ass, asking to go deeper, though there was _nowhere_ to go deeper. 

"Yeah?" 

Even if Mark tied Jackson's mouth, the younger would find a way to talk, he would bit through it, or whine until Mark would have mercy on him. There was no way of stopping Jackson from talking through sex while he was topping. 

Jackson grabbed a fistful of the skirt and yanked it up to watch his cock disappear into the heat of his husband. He moaned, loudly, which provoked Mark to tense around him. To be honest, Jackson had a minor problem concentrating on the rhythm as the fluffy tutu skirt occupied his hands. 

"Jackson, for fuck sake!" Mark brought his fist on the counter, "fuck me properly! Get the rhythm, boy!" 

_Wow._

"I'm sorry," Jackson buried his face in the crook of Mark's neck, "the skirt keeps me—"

"Then fuck my skirt if you like it that much!" 

Clearly, Mark was getting angry with the lame situation he found himself in. Jackson was head over hills with the fucking piece of cloth, and poor Mark had to take and _take_ the abuse of being second after a _fucking_ piece of fabric. The anger riled hip up, seriously, so much that he broke the carrot into two and threw it into the sink. 

"I'm taking it off!"

"No!" Jackson grabbed his hips, "I'll be good."

"Get off, Jack."

"You can't be jealous of a skirt, Mark!"

"I can be jealous of whatever the fuck I want!" 

"Now, you're absurd," Jackson stroked his sides lovingly, "the only reason I like the skirt is that it fits you so perfectly. Your beautiful round ass and you look so soft in the purple color… it fits you so _good,_ babe."

Mark calmed down after the words – he could feel it in the way of how Mark relaxed around his cock. Jackson used the last of his willpower to not come because of how hot and tight his husband was before, and to be honest – pissed off Mark was kind of _hot._

"Good," he soothed Mark's back with his hands, "I'm sorry…"

When the older did not say a word, Jackson picked up his rhythm again, just right for Mark's liking. He even held his hips so he would not bruise his pelvic bones against the wood. ' _Fuck the skirt now,'_ Jackson thought as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. How often this happened – that he had Mark bent over a kitchen counter? He could not remember the last time they went so spontaneous. 

"Yeah, _that's more like it…_ " Jackson fastened his tempo, listening to every soft moan Mark made. It went smooth since then, his hips roll fit perfectly, the slapping of their skin filled the background of their breaths. 

Mark pressed his ass against Jackson, almost singsonging his name as Jackson hit his prostate dead on and continued to ravish it until Mark was gasping and grabbing every possible object on the counter. Only one thing was missing – Mark's face. There was nothing more satisfying than watching his husband's expressions during sex. 

"What – what are you _doing…_?" Mark looked at him over his shoulder when Jackson was suddenly pulling off. 

Wordlessly, Jackson picked him up on his arms to brought him on the kitchen table. 

"Stop turning this into a habit!" Mark smacked his husband's head, "put me _down._ "

"As you wish," Jackson sat him down on the cold surface of the table. Mark had not time to complain about them being unhygienic because Jackson was already pushing him down on his back. 

"Now, let me see your face, babe…" 

Mark propped himself on his forearms and spread his legs, "you know this is highly not recommended for someone with your painful back."

"How unromantic," he bent Mark's knees and positioned himself back at his entrance, "I can still fuck you like a champ…"

"Of course, you can…" there was no harm in his words as Mark grabbed his husband's nape and pulled him down into a kiss, "I love _it._ "

"I love you." 

"Love you too."

Mark groaned at the penetration and lay back on the table. He wrapped his legs around Jackson's waist and let him do _whatever_ he wanted because, by the end of the day, Mark was there to chase any pain away. 

"Easy," he breathed out as Jackson's whole body tensed. Mark could tell he was close, "just easy."

The only look Jackson required was Mark lying under him, with his legs opened and being submissive – oh how he loved submissive Mark who didn't boss him about every angle and tempo. Jackson smiled for himself, his hands massaging his husband's pectorals as he moved lazily inside of him. 

"Still the most beautiful…" Jackson whispered. 

The friction against his nipples made Mark all squirmy, he bucked his hips up, trying to find some release of the teasing but he ended up shooing Jackson's hands away and covering his chest, "too much."

" _Aww…_ " Jackson giggled and bent down to kiss the sensitive nubs. "only if your fans knew how sensitive you are."

" _Stop…_ " he whimpered weakly, "Jacks…"

" _Hmmm…._ " A bit, lick, and suck, "how about no?"

Mark was about to lose his mind.

"You two are my favorite things." He swirled his tongue around one of the nipples.

"They say _fuck you,_ " Mark answered for his over-sensitive nipples. 

Jackson laughed, picking himself up and stroking Mark's thighs, "fuck you too."

"Done." With a smirk, Mark let his legs slide down on Jackson's hips until he could press his heels against the soft flesh of his husband's ass cheeks. He opened one eye, chuckling at Jackson's expression. 

"Such a tease."

 _"Jackson…_ " Mark threw his head back with a loud moan, "you're the best, you fuck like no one else…"

"The hell," Jackson laughed at the sudden outburst, "stop."

But Mark found it funny, apparently, so he continued being overdramatic. He brought such an overused and nasty porn concept into their kitchen that Jackson couldn't stand him.

"You're so _big…_ " Mark stretched his arms lazily over his head, giving Jackson a lazy smile. 

"For Christ's sake..."

"You're right, I love taking your cock..."

Jackson had to look away before he would burst out laughing straight into his husband's face, which he knew, would probably result in one of their most awkward sexual experience. 

"I honestly came to have steamy time, and I feel attacked right now..."

"Good," Mark clenched around his cock, "then attack me back."

Jackson stopped moving as he poured all of his attention into a single look he gave to his lover. Jokes aside, Mark was playing with fire, and Jackson wasn't much good at control. He would rather see the chaos overtake all over the world and watch it burn than save it. But, Mark... his husband, that was something else. Jackson needed only one person to submit to him ever. He wanted to watch Mark unravel and give him full control over _everything._

They exchanged looks, Mark's eyes shining playfully. Jackson waited, he needed to hear only one gaffe, so he could make a full-front attack. 

"Do you need me to say more?" Mark tilted his head on the side, showing his neck, "you're so deep inside me, and the tutu skirt is like a crown sitting on my ass, and you do nothing?"

 _Breath,_ just breathe. Jackson pressed his fingers into Mark's hipbones' soft skin and snapped his hips roughly against Mark. After that, he picked his fast tempo, pounding Mark's ass unforgivingly. 

"Yes, _fuck…_ " Mark's body twisted in pleasure, "give me that big cock."

Jackson grunted breathlessly, "You still can talk?" 

Mark laughed throatily. After all these years, he got used to any kind of _fuck._ Honestly, Jackson was occasionally so rough and out of his mind that Mark spent two hours in the warm bath to calm down his sore muscles. There was nothing Jackson could surprise him with any more. 

"Yes, I can, please, _Jacks…_ please." 

Jackson was already sweaty, and his back was aching, but Mark's moans were echoing in his ears and pulling him forward beyond his limits, "I want you to come all over your pretty skirt."

"Fuck…"

"Come on, babe…" 

Then, Jackson grabbed Mark under his knees and yanked him closer, leaving Mark's ass hanging off the table as he folded his lover in half and fucked into him until Mark couldn't speak or breathe anymore. Jackson even moved the massive kitchen table with his trust, leaving Mark pleasantly satisfied. This is what he wanted – seeing possessive Jackson, feeling the power of his love. Jackson kept grabbing at the skirt roughly, tearing it instead of punishing Mark for being such tease. He would leave a beautiful ruby string of lovebites and bruises all over Mark's porcelain skin if there wasn't that _fucking_ piece of cloth. 

Yeah, Jackson ripped it off Mark.

"Jacks—" 

**

Mark hummed thoughtfully. 

" _Hm_?" Jackson hugged him from behind and rested his head on Mark's shoulder, "it's not that bad." He commented on the destroyed skirt. 

"There's a tear here, and here. I can't wear it anymore, and I had one more day…" he sighed. 

"Nobody has to know," Jackson hummed, "and if they want to know, I can tell them, and I guarantee you that they _don't want to_ hear that."

Mark giggled, "you're so dumb."

"It takes one to know one." He pecked Mark's cheek, "now let's order some food and sleep."

What to do with a man that is a child-man? Well, Mark was the same, so that's why they fit so amazingly together. Mark threw the abused cloth in the laundry basket and turned at Jackson with a smile. He wrapped his arms around Jackson's neck and asked him to carry him into the bedroom and order some chicken, which Jackson obeyed without a word. 

"You know," Jackson laid his husband down on the bed, "I find it funny how you complain about being carried during sex but not after it."

"I'm a babe now," Mark rolled into the middle of the bed, taking a blanket with himself, "but if you want, I can look at—"

"Later," the younger smiled, "when you feel better, you can play with me."

Mark giggled at that, "go order the food, husband." 

For a while, Jackson debated whether he should grab his phone or jump his lover. The battle has been decided when Mark buried himself under the tones of blanket they had sprawled on the bed. He looked like a kitten protecting itself from the chill weather. Jackson took ahold of himself as a proper adult and walked off to the living room. 

Soon he was back with a sour expression, "I ordered chicken wings, spiced for you…"

Mark nodded.

"And, BamBam texted me. He wants to see evidence that you're still wearing the skirt." 

Ah, what a _sour_ expression it was, what a gentle stroke it was on Mark's EGO. The older laughed into the pillow, clearly unable to surpass the amusement of his husband's hopeless situation. 

"You explain it to him." 

Jackson narrowed his eyes at him, "just watch, you tease. Everything is your fault, anyway."

"Of course." Mark laughed again.

"You and your long legs and your ass! You owe me seven photos!" 

"You owe me a new skirt!" Mark pulled up into a seat swiftly.

Jackson dropped his hand next to his body, ogling his husband wearing his messy reddish hair. What on Earth did he get himself into? Mark Tuan Wang was nothing but a devil, and everyone who had decided that he was an angel could rot in hell with him. 

"I'll buy you a new one," Jackson's voice dropped, "a whole fucking collection of skirts!" He threw his phone on the chair and quickly climbed on the bed, ready to tackle his husband down. 

"I'll buy you a whole fucking Victoria Secret collection if you want!" He started to threw blanket after blanket away until Mark was exposed under him, wearing only his oversized black shirt and silky boxers. 

"No, thank you, I'd rather be naked…"

That is, it!

There goes Jackson's patience. 

"It's your turn next time," Mark added as he opened his legs for Jackson and waited until the younger settled between them, gently stroking Mark's thighs. 

"Ruby red pleated skirt," Mark nodded, already imagining Jackson's ass in that tight material.

Jackson gave him his signature smile before leaning against one of Mark's legs and kissed his knee, "I'll even let you take polaroids."

" _Aw,_ that's unfair," Mark frowned, "I would feel like an asshole."

 _Strange,_ Jackson thought as he lowered his head and pressed his cheek against Mark's knee. He felt exhausted from the sex, yes, even his lower back hurt a bit, but there was something so warm and radiating inside him that he couldn't name. It was different from _love_ or passion—a form of endearing, _yes,_ something sacred about Mark. 

"I'm glad," Jackson closed his eyes with a smile, "that we made it here. Your ' _yes'_ is incomparable to anything."

Mark didn't reply, only swung Jackson on his leg. The silence was gold, and Jackson could feel all of that through Mark's loving gaze. He didn't need an answer, however...

"Your _'marry me'_ was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever told me."

Jackson snorted, "we're so cheesy."

"Chicken!" Mark called suddenly, "the delivery! Your phone!"

"My phone?" Jackson had to roll away from the bed to grab his ringing iPhone from the chair, "it's BamBam again..."

"Tell him we fucked so hard that you ripped the skirt."

"Ok..." Jackson picked up the call and moved from the bedroom into the living room. All Mark could hear was a colorful explanation of why Mark _can't_ wear the purple tutu skirt right now or ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment & ♥ 😞  
> gonna take a pause from writing. nothing fulfills me. I'll probably delete this too... Aand 2 more kings chapters.


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